Untitled Case 3

 Betty

Betty’s hands trembled as she clutched the seatbelt across her lap. The muffled roar of the plane’s engines and the chatter of passengers filled the cabin, but her mind was consumed by a deafening silence. She stared out of the small window, her reflection merging with the streaks of golden sunlight breaking through the clouds.

"How did it come to this?" she murmured, her voice drowned by the hum of the plane.

A stewardess passed by, offering a polite smile, but Betty barely noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the torn note, the blood-stained photograph, and the pen drive now hidden in the secret pocket of her bag. The weight of it felt unbearable, yet she knew she couldn’t let it go. Somewhere in that jumble of files was the answer she had been searching for since the day her parents died.

Her grip tightened on the armrest as the plane ascended, and she forced herself to focus. The destination mattered more than the fear.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a man’s voice broke her trance. Betty turned to see a stranger—a tall man with a calm yet intense demeanor, his sharp suit suggesting he wasn’t just another vacationer. He gestured toward the empty seat beside her.

“No,” she replied hesitantly, trying to sound neutral.

As he settled in, Betty instinctively adjusted her bag closer to her feet, her guard going up. Something about his presence unsettled her.

The man pulled out a small notepad, scribbling something down before pausing to glance her way. “Long trip?” he asked casually.

“Yes,” she replied curtly, not meeting his gaze.

He smiled faintly, sensing her unease. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Just making conversation.”

Betty nodded but said nothing, her eyes darting toward the aisle. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this man wasn’t as harmless as he appeared.

 But Betty didn’t trust it—or him.

She shifted her bag closer, her knee pressing against it protectively. Inside, the pen drive seemed to radiate like a beacon. Was she being paranoid? Or had someone already pieced together what she was running from?

The man’s pencil stopped mid-scribble, and he looked her way. “You seem nervous,” he said with an unnerving calm.

Betty forced a tight smile. “I’m fine. I don’t like flying.”

“Understandable,” he replied. His tone was friendly, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.

Betty turned toward the window, avoiding further conversation, but her mind churned. Could he be connected to the shadowy web she and her friends had uncovered? Or was this just her anxiety feeding her imagination?

She glanced down at her phone. Airplane mode was on, but a message from Shiny, sent just before takeoff, lingered on the screen:
“Don’t do anything reckless. We’re coming to you.”

Betty’s throat tightened. It was too late for second thoughts.

Shiny and Laura

Shiny's car screeched to a halt outside Laura’s apartment. Without waiting for the engine to cool, she jumped out, slamming the door behind her.

“Laura! Get the files!” she called as she stormed into the living room.

Laura was already in action, gathering everything from the secret room: the blood-stained photograph, the pen drive’s duplicate copy, and the torn note. She looked up as Shiny entered, her expression a mix of fear and determination.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Laura asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shiny, ever the pragmatist, shrugged off the question. “Betty’s tough, but we can’t just sit here and wait. She’s on her way to something big, and we’re going to back her up.”

Laura nodded, zipping up her bag. “The flight leaves in three hours.”

Shiny glanced at her watch, then back at Laura. “Three hours to figure out what’s on this pen drive. If we don’t decode this before we get to her, we might be walking into a trap blind.”

Laura hesitated. “Do you think... whoever left that note knows where she’s going?”

Shiny grabbed the pen drive and plugged it into her laptop. “That’s what I’m afraid of. And if they do, we’re running out of time.”

Betty

Hours into the flight, the cabin was quiet. Most of the passengers were asleep or lost in their own worlds. But Betty couldn’t sleep. The man beside her had stopped writing and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed. Or so it seemed.

Every fiber of Betty’s being told her something was off. She stood, feigning a stretch, and made her way to the bathroom, taking her bag with her.

Once inside the cramped space, she locked the door and sat on the closed toilet seat, pulling the pen drive from her bag. Her heart pounded as she whispered to herself, “What are you hiding, Dad?”

She glanced at the small screen on the bathroom wall showing the flight path. Only a few hours left before they landed. She had to act now.

Plugging the pen drive into her phone using an adapter, she watched as the files loaded, a series of encrypted documents and videos appearing on the screen. The familiar grainy footage filled her vision, the last frame showing the same cryptic code.

But this time, a faint reflection caught her eye—movement behind her in the mirror.

Betty froze. A shadow passed outside the bathroom door.

The lights flickered once, twice. Then they went out.

A muffled knock came at the door.
“Miss, is everything alright in there?”

Betty's breath hitched. She knew that voice.

But it wasn’t the flight attendant.

Whose voice was that, and why did it feel so familiar yet so wrong? Will Laura and Shiny reach Betty before it's too late, or is danger already closing in on her?